'm not a bit afraid, because, you see, fairies can
only hurt _bad_ children.'

'Ah, and you're a good little child--that's not difficult to see!'

'They don't see it at home!' said Priscilla, with a sad little sigh, 'or
they would listen more when I tell them of things they oughtn't to do.'

'And what things do they do that they oughtn't to, my child--if you
don't mind telling me?'

'Oh, I don't mind in the _least_!' Priscilla hastened to assure her; and
then she told the old woman all her family's faults, and the trial it
was to bear with them and go on trying to induce them to mend their
ways. 'And papa is getting worse than ever,' she concluded dolefully;
'only fancy, this very morning he called me a little prig!'

'Tut, tut!' said the fairy sympathetically, 'deary, deary me! So he
called you _that_, did he?--"a little prig"! And _you_, too! Ah, the
world's coming to a pretty pass! I suppose, now, your papa and the rest
of them have got it into their heads that you are too young and too
inexperienced to set up as their adviser--is that it?'

'I'm afraid so,' admitted Priscilla; 'but we mustn't blame them,' she
added gently, 'we must remember that they don't know any better--mustn't
we, ma'am?'

'You sweet child!' said the old lady with enthusiasm; 'I must see if I
can't do something to help you, though I'm not the fairy I used to
be--still, there are tricks I can manage still, if I'm put to it. What
you want is something that will prove to them that they ought to pay
more attention to you, eh?--something there can be no possible mistake
about?'

'Yes!' cried Priscilla eagerly, 'and--and--how would it be if you
changed them into something else, just to _show_ them, and then I could
ask for them to be transformed back again, you know?'

'What an ingenious little thing you are!' exclaimed the fairy; 'but, let
us see--if you came home and found your cruel papa doing duty as the
family hatstand, or strutting about as a Cochin China fowl----'

'Oh, _yes_; and I'd feed him every day, till he was sorry!' interrupted
the warmhearted little girl impulsively.

'Ah, but you're so hasty, my dear. Who would write all the clever
articles and tales to earn bread and meat for you all?--fowls can't use
a pen. No, we must find a prettier trick than that--there _was_ one I
seem to remember, long, long ago, performing for a good little ill-used
girl, just like you, my dearie, just like you! Now what was it? some
gift I gave